Appendix

Essay on Selling Mormon Books

Selling Mormon books agitates finicky critics. In 1982, I purchased my first rare Mormon book, an 1840 Book of Mormon, from Cosmic Aeroplane Books in Salt Lake City. Ever since, as I have expanded my collection and sold off duplicates, skeptics of diverse sorts have wondered about the propriety of selling religious books for financial gain. In this essay, I will examine some of the criticisms and respond with logical reasons for selling church books, whether as a private individual or as a serious collector. My object in addressing the subject is to rebuild confidence in the local market and to attract clients from whom I may purchase books (and other imprints, autographs, art, and relics, collectively known as Mormon Americana).

My reason for collecting books is historical, not theological. In keeping with that objective, I buy books related to any of the diverse churches that share the Mormon heritage, whether LDS, RLDS, Restoration, or any of the minor groups; and books which are standard, dissenting, or even opposing. In addition, I buy the most substantively obscure and physically tattered pamphlets and periodicals that have little appeal to mainstream collectors. They are all necessary to an erudite understanding of the sociological and cultural relationships of the movement.

The first criticism of book collecting is the most primitive. The censure is the social evaluation that we are not entitled to buy or sell anything, bad or good. That is, if you or I were administratively responsible for the largest retailer of fermented beverages in the state, we would be faulted for profiting on something injurious to the public. However, if you or I were instead to sell church books, then we would be reproved for profiting on something necessary for social welfare. The reproach is basally flawed as a coherent economic argument, for it rests upon the abdicated premise that merchants provide no service as intermediaries in free markets. Further, the complainants use normative words such as ought not or should not which have no place in economic theory, but in doctrinal; and if in doctrinal principles, then only when supported by scripture or precedent. I have heard neither economic nor sound doctrinal reason not to sell books--the sale of which was the foundation of our democracy and republic, and promulgated the Mormon ideology (within the most prosperous and free economic system in the history of the world).

As a philosophical rebuttal, I suggest that buying is the converse of selling; and that in computational symbolism the difference is merely in the plus or minus sign used to show relation. That is, "sell" is the mathematical opposite of "buy." If it is nominally wrong or economically unprofitable to sell a book at a certain price, then it is also right and profitable to buy the book at the same price, disregarding negligible transactional costs. Hence, any critic of book selling is welcome to start buying--anyone too insecure that the price may rise after they sell their books, should instead invest in more books; anyone who fears their heritage will be lost, should buy the complement to their collection; anyone who thinks that this is profitable, is welcome to compete. The prospects for new throngs of activity in the marketplace could be cheering, but I anticipate only that I will be a lonesome gatherer.

Legend deters some Latter Day Saints from selling to me artifacts obtained from their ancestors. The Mormon story began with a set of ancient records inscribed on gold tablets, or plates. They were supposed to have been handed down from father to son, from Lehi to Nephi, and so on to Moroni, who buried them. Joseph Smith Jr. said that he was given the plates, but was commanded by an angel not "to get the plates for the purpose of getting rich." Instead, he finished translating and returned the gold plates to the angel, according to Latter Day Saint beliefs.

Nevertheless, the printed Book of Mormon is merely a copy, manufactured with purpose to be sold. Smith once owned five thousand copies of the first edition Book of Mormon, which cost him three thousand dollars to print. He said that he was divinely instructed to sell them for between $1.25 and $1.75 each. Since the derived cost of the books was 65 each, Smith was therefore commanded to make a profit. Even at that reasonable profit, Parley Pratt recognized the propriety of accepting more generous offers, when he recounted that in 1831: "One gentleman offered as high as ten dollars for a copy of the Book of Mormon; but, unluckily, I had none with me."(1) Today at least two publishers, Deseret Book and Herald House, sell the Book of Mormon gainfully.

There is no parallel between the original records which were anciently engraved on metallic plates, and the mass reproductions printed with ink and paper in the 1800s. Anyone who considers plates to be sacred believes that, whatever their material (even brass), they were divinely protected from oxidation, corrosion, or tarnish: "Wherefore, he said that these plates of brass should never perish; neither should they be dimmed any more by time."(2) The first edition Book of Mormon was printed on bright white cotton paper; and though its words might be as sacred as those on the plates, the physical materials themselves do not have the same promise: "And now behold, if they [the plates] are kept they must retain their brightness; yea, and they will retain their brightness; yea, and also shall all the plates which do contain that which is holy writ."(3) The proof that this does not apply to printed books, naturally, is that in the examination of any copy of the first edition Book of Mormon, the book is found sprinkled with foxing or brown speckles, which has caused the cotton to lose its brightness. The foxing is the result of combustion by the atmosphere and impurities in the paper, and is often aggravated by acidic materials tangent to the book, or acidic moisture seeping into the book. The process is akin to the tarnishing of brass, and the lost brightness divulges that the paper has no sacred aptitude to outlast perpetuity. If the printed Book of Mormon may be sold, more so the polemical tracts, broadsides, and periodicals printed since the Book of Mormon.

Along with the myth that paper is sacred is the fallacy that rare scriptures are unique like the plates. Of the five thousand copies of the Book of Mormon printed in 1830, innumerable copies survived. Books were expensive to purchase in 1830; the Book of Mormon was sold like any other book, and consequently not discarded. Within twenty-five years after its publication, the first edition was already treasured. The locations of several hundred copies are known today with certainty, with as many as two dozen in the hands of a single family, and approximately one dozen in the hands of the RLDS Church (though not treated there with conservation and restoration processes). Even of the most elusive Book of Commandments, there are two dozen copies known including one hitherto unknown copy purchased by me. Rare books are not unique, for by their tactile disposition they are reproductions designed to be sold.

After all, a book is merely paper, ink, and leather. Most people see a more efficient use of capital than keeping deteriorating books in attics, basements, and barns "where moth and rust doth corrupt" (Matthew 6:19). Conscientious inheritors of rare books will desire to see them sold to a person who will expertly preserve them. I treat books with state of the art methods to scientifically remove damaging tape or other unbefitting repairs, and properly restore leather bindings using the same materials and techniques as the original bookbinder; and also deacidify and use modern archival techniques for mending paper. (To otherwise cheaply rebind books in acidic materials with intrusive methods is destructive and will lessen the value.) Then I store the books at the correct temperature and humidity, in a fire-safe environment, with controls against insects, rodents, and floods. Finally, I make the books available so that many people can see them.

Variously estimated as high as twenty thousand volumes, my private library is reported to be the third largest collection of Latter Day Saint imprints and documents in the world, behind that of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Salt Lake City and Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah. It is therefore the largest outside Utah and the largest held by an individual--my library is larger than that of the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints in terms of its focus on the Latter Day Saints and its breadth in that subject, and based on the absolute number of volumes. To improve relations between booksellers and the public, I have welcomed researchers to use my permanent collection--a tangible symbol of successful price competition and social responsibility.

Most people respond to my advertisements by selling their books; but the reaction of some people is to presume that their books are too highly valued by themselves to sell, and they never even learn what I would have paid--I therefore amiably give free appraisals. Moreover, I guarantee that my purchase prices are the highest in any U.S. market (my record of high prices is established in California, Utah, Missouri, Iowa, Illinois, Michigan, Ohio, New York, and throughout the nation, both in private transactions and at auctions), and I will outbid any other legitimate offer. Finally, I do not take books on consignment, like dealers--instead, I pay cash in advance, and always have.

Other people learn about my high prices, and they panic and hoard their books. A sociological phenomenon exists in the antiquarian market: There is an inverse relationship between the amount you offer someone for something, and the likelihood that they will sell it to you. Was I, for example, to offer someone twenty-five dollars for a battered volume of the Saints' Herald, they would probably sell it without much deliberation. If instead I offered five hundred dollars for the same book, the startled person would be expected to examine the book carefully, become suspicious that the height of its real value might be indeterminate or limitless, or ethereally magnify its unalterable real importance, and inevitably decide that the cautious solution to indecision is to remove the book to their safe deposit box. In order to remain ethical, I have constantly offered full market value anyway, accepting the possibility of being declined. Because I offer as much as practical, it limits my emotional interest in the transaction, and the person declining me never hears a repetition of my offer--they operate under the simplistic and pitiable delusion that they have discovered some precise, universal, and recognized price for their book that they can attain from any less-interested person at a random time of their own preference.

I have before said how Ron Romig at the RLDS Library and Archives used my religious heritage as cause to slander me to potential clients. Eventually, a scholarly researcher visited Romig's archives while the researcher carried a tape recorder. When the researcher told Romig that he was consulting with a local expert on rare books, Romig maliciously slandered me in a transparent attempt to prevent the man from doing business with me. "Is it John Hajicek?" Romig asked disdainfully. "We are very cautious about our dealings with him . . . when somebody comes in and brings materials that John Hajicek has, I'm always very, very cautious about recommending him."(4)

Romig agreed that I do purchase my books, but asserted that they are purchased in Midwestern markets rather than factually throughout the country--but then he shifted to a contradiction by alleging that the frequency of my discovering rare books was "why we wonder how he gets them." He did not divulge his knowledge of my visibly expensive national advertising campaign, nor that my generous prices led to my successful acquisitions. Finally, he reverted to his claim that my purchase prices were below prices paid elsewhere (I am actually the national leader in Mormon book prices paid), but then contradictorily conceded that he lacked experience and was "unable to tell" what should be the "fair market price."(5) (As further evidence that the RLDS Library and Archives is unqualified to appraise books, or to judge the prices of private collectors, the former librarian and Romig's partner wrote a letter to me stating "Our Institutional Policy" against the RLDS Church dealing in rare books: "We also do not have the staff or expertise to stay informed about fair market values for items in our collection, and it is not an activity that we intend to begin.")(6)  Romig then told the researcher, "I will refer you to [a] book dealer in the area that does handle RLDS material that I think is legitimate."(7)  Legitimate should have been clarified to say that Romig's favorite buyer is a member of the Center Stake of the RLDS Church, buying for resale at a profit. Romig then sent the researcher to that local dealer for whom I am a top customer, thus making the original seller share his money with a middleman.

Romig, because of his public position and influence, ethically ought to have given the researcher a printed list of local bookbuyers(8) including my name, and withheld any endorsement from any of them: "Special collections libraries should avoid any appearance of collusion or favoritism by requiring librarians to provide, whenever possible, more than one name in referring potential donors or other inquirers to appraisers, booksellers, and other persons who may be of assistance to them."(9) With the researcher's recording and Romig's written statements (including those in the foregoing work), I can prove malice, slander, and damages to obtain justifiable restitution and treble damages for a lost lifetime.(10)

Romig gained notoriety himself lately, and was disparaged by some trained historians, when he purported that a spurious daguerreotype was the first known photograph of Joseph Smith Jr. The photograph (encased in 1850s materials), is of a man in his apparent early twenties, inscribed "taken 1854," and wearing what evidently are same period clothes. Smith, of course, was born in 1805 and died in 1844, before a daguerreotypist arrived in Nauvoo, Illinois. There is not even a provenance for Romig's image, except conjecture--sufficient reason for the RLDS Library and Archives to develop relationships outside the institution with experts who have insights and experience in artifacts and provenances. As I own the gold watch fob that belonged to Joseph Smith Jr., courtesy of the Alexander H. Smith family, I wonder if Romig would like to compare it with his apocryphal daguerreotype which allegedly depicts Smith wearing such a chain--but Romig has no use for independent historians. Being a Great Lakes Mormon and being a Latter Day Saint historian are incompatible, in the closed view of Romig. He would probably be befuddled at the purpose of the signed and notarized affidavit of the gold links' authenticity--since he asserts that speculative folklore is enough provenance for his likeness of a nameless person.(11)

Romig should not be the only person faulted for his apparent misinterpretation of the portrait. He is underpaid and inexperienced in consideration of his critical responsibilities. He has no degree in history, library science, or public administration, and lacks prior experience in rare book, document, and photograph restoration and conservation (his degrees are in education and his experience is in electronic archives). He has never written a book on Mormon history, and was obviously anxious for recognition when he asserted his findings about the picture that had laid anonymously for decades.

The RLDS Church does not place sufficient emphasis on archival preservation, in my professional evaluation--seemingly oblivious to the immense financial value of its disintegrating historical assets, and uninterested in the greater cultural value. Anyone seeking an example might enjoy comparing the manuscript of Joseph Smith Jr.'s "New Translation" with its accompanying photostatic copy, to observe how it continues to fragment since the photostat was made at the advent of the technology. Someone else might like to tour the fashionable archives chamber in the architectonically asymmetrical and inspired seashell sculpture of Oliver Wendell Holmes, sanctified as the Temple,(12) and see that amid its spectacular furnishings and immense airiness, a myriad of rare manuscripts (many worth thousands of dollars) are not regarded as significant enough to fit into the overflowing vault, though they consume only microns of space.

Before the Temple spiraled upward, splendid copies of the 1833 Book of Commandments and Emma Smith's 1835 Sacred Hymns lay on a buffet canopied by a bottomless glass cubicle, overseen by the vigilantly dreaming eye of an Auditorium volunteer, while snores reverberated from his outlying desk--anyone desiring could have inconspicuously lifted the glass and appreciated feeling the texture of the books' leathern grain and cottony fibers--I ingenuously enjoyed the scenic exhibit during frequent excursions, scarcely noticing that I was unchaperoned, and the books endured there undisturbed by my integrity. In that setting, I could reflect on how modestly the operations had advanced since 1907, when the RLDS Church stored kerosene in the same building with the archives and burned its heritage to sooty ash, and along with it the cultural history of the Great Lakes Mormons. Lest anyone think me too cynical, I reemphasize that I share an interest in the preservation of that mutual history of the Mormon tradition--and I donated books to the Auditorium and to the Temple. Incidentally, I also had a track record of contributing one hundred dollars to every library that assisted me with my research, beginning with the State Historical Society of Iowa, in 1988, and continuing with the University of Michigan, in 1995.(13) I have appropriately explained the current archival deficiency to Ron Romig, and he agreed: "Your letter may be of great help in assisting RLDS church administrators to take my concerns for expanded conservation efforts here more seriously."(14)

More perilous than our differences over archival methodology, Ron Romig has competed against me in the acquisition of rare books and manuscripts related to our joint heritage. As the archivist, Romig is responsible for making acquisitions by solicitation without remuneration to the owner. The rivalry was accentuated by my competitive advantages of technical knowledge, financial strength, and conservation programs. The RLDS Church typically did not appreciate, would not buy, and did not adequately preserve rare books. Romig explained, "The purpose for the existence of our institution is in direct competition with your business interests. We compete for scarce resources. . . . we are at a disadvantage."(15)

Without sufficient money to buy books at what he had called their "fair market price," Romig resorted to other acquisition strategies. He flaunted in the Saints Herald how he ransacked a Smith-family home seeking relics, "sorting through family papers, searching through attic, basements, and closets of the home . . . several station-wagon loads of materials were transported to the archives . . ."(16)

On 1 December 1992 the sociable Lorene Smith (Mrs. Lynn Smith) brought my wife and I to the Smith house, which looked plundered. She related that Romig had taken her books and artworks, but that she thought they still belonged to the family. We then went with Smith to the RLDS Temple archives, where Romig attempted to explain an ambiguous arrangement that he had made with the family. He was reluctant to show her own books to her, and utterly refused to give her a copy of the inventory or her loan agreement. His only reprimand of me was that I refused to wear a scarlet designation on my lapel, while in the ecumenical sanctuary, exhibiting to all my disgrace for being a Great Lakes Mormon.

I estimated the rare books, paintings, and Joseph Smith Jr. artifacts to be worth from a quarter million to one million dollars.(17) The Smith family, naturally, was entitled to make that present to their church, even in poverty; but ethically should have been assisted in making an informed decision as to the value of their contribution, if it were a donation--and should have been told that the rarest books duplicated some already in the archives.

In fairness to Romig, the incident should be considered in the context of his socialistic views on the ownership of property (he lives in the Harvest Hills communal cluster). He genuinely defended the transaction by explaining that private ownership, open markets, and free enterprise cause "the generation of artificial extrinsic value for historical materials [that] interferes with their inherent intrinsic value to the benefit of the larger scholarly community." He elaborated that: "From a historical perspective, the value of these items would be much diminished should they be divided and sold into private hands." Books should not be owned by private individuals, according to Romig, because "these materials must remain available to all genuine students and researchers of the movement alike, rather than to fall into the hands of private dealers or collectors."(18) I have to be tolerant of his social perspective without agreeing--but I am a capitalist, and I continue to pay for books while he obtains them free.

Romig is incorrect that the free market creates artificial values. The market price is the real value--it is socialism that creates "artificial" values (with Romig's suggested price ceilings and restraints of supply). Further, Romig failed to understand how the free market allocates scarce resources, a principle taught at the elementary level for every social science degree. Although almost eloquently rhetorical, Romig did not realize that the free market creates a flow of rare books from private individuals and those who desire them less, to wealthy collectors and those who desire them more (in exchange for money being redistributed to the less wealthy), and that the wealthy collector eventually donates the books to a sophisticated library capable of their appropriate preservation--usually at his or her alma mater--taking care to ensure that the library does not already have multiple copies of the same title.

Collecting books out of social responsibility has expenses besides the price of the books, include the costs of maintaining an office; the costs of computer and office equipment; the costs of advertising; the costs of traveling to buy; the costs of long distance and toll-free telephone lines; and the costs of value-added in conservation and restoration. The elements of risk include the possibility that the collector will make an error in identifying a book that he guessed was valuable; the chance that after paying for the book he will discover some internal defect that devalues the book; the venture of buying a book with insufficient information about the prospects for reselling it someday; the anxiety that the fickle book market will further decline and the book will depreciate; and the hazards of potential losses while it is in the collector's custody, including natural disaster, theft, damage, or persecution.

The first success of the free economic system is that the collector advertises his market prices and attracts the seller to bring the books out of attics, basements, and barns--where they would disintegrate under socialism. A staunch woman here in Independence, Missouri still keeps a copy of the first edition Book of Mormon atop the water tank behind her toilet. One elderly gentleman I know has his rare books and manuscripts so tightly wrapped in aluminum foil and duct tape as to guarantee his faithful intentions at being the next Noah--while crushing the brittle paper into spark-thirsty kindling in the scorching and dry attic. Every year a major collection of rare Mormon Americana is lost when infidel heirs or a disenchanted widow toss it to the burn barrel. Better is it to have them sold, preserved, and situated before death.

Also during the intermediate phase, a serious collector uses his or her means and skill to have the books restored and conserved, as do I. Finally, while special collections libraries do not buy books from regular individuals, they often establish relationships with serious collectors familiar with their collection. As one with such cultivated associations, whenever I resell duplicate books that are scarce, I always offer them to those libraries first rather than to other collectors (though the librarians are difficult to contact, are unappreciative of Mormon books, have reduced budgets, and generally pay delinquently); for one role of a good collector is the eventual placement of rare books in the most appropriate repository (such as one that does not already have a dozen dilapidated copies of the same title). Romig seemed unaware of the guideline followed by better libraries: "Librarians and the book trade share a long tradition of mutually beneficial cooperation in building collections and a common concern for their preservation."(19) In summary, that path (from the originating family, to the wealthy collector, to the fine library) is preferable to having an impoverished individual donate the books to an inferior library incapable of assessing their value, without a collection strategy, and without the ability, inclination, or skill to care for the books properly.

Romig defended his course by saying that it would not have been in the interest of the Smith family to receive compensation for the rarities, nor in the interest of the historical community to have the free market determine who most valued the materials (the RLDS Church had the means to compete in the marketplace, and thereby quantify its real valuation of the items). Finally, even though one of the primary responsibilities of an archivist is to make acquisitions, and though Romig is paid as an archivist, he said he derived no financial nor intrinsic benefits from the transaction or from being a historian.(20) Yielding to him those exotic last words without any necessity for me to respond, I advance instead to the strategy of selling privately owned books to a private collector.

Experts play an important role in the book trade. They are necessary to the recognition, appraisal, and placement of rare books. Without consulting an expert, hundreds of people faithfully clutch their Book of Mormon imprinted "Lamoni: 1874" and regard it as a first RLDS edition--completely oblivious that the church's press was still in Plano, Illinois until 1 November 1881, much less capable of discovering that all Lamoni editions from 1881 until the "Twenty-second Edition" was published in "1900" all bear the same 1874 date.(21) Even Richard Howard, feeling too important as church historian to consult the local book expert, republished his book Restoration Scriptures this year with a facsimile of the "1867 First Edition, Holy Scriptures"--but misidentified the book.(22) Howard, after thirty years as church historian, could not recognize even the single greatest book ever published by the Reorganization. The book he photographed is one of the later editions published after 1881, when the imprint of "Plano" was dropped from the stereotyped printing plates, but before "1901" when the words "Twelfth Edition" were added and the date corrected. A manuscript expert can equally well identify what is not the grammar, style, and handwriting of Joseph Smith Jr., as I did a decade and a half ago by simply comparing a spurious prophetic succession document with Smith's earlier correction of Matthew 10:14 in the "New Translation."

Not only do experts lend their knowledge, but they make it profitable: The 1929 Ancestry and Posterity of Joseph Smith sells for ten times the amount of the 1893 Instructor--and there are more than ten thousand other Mormon books that have similarly paradoxical values. Each value is arbitrarily based on the intuition of a experienced collector using years of accumulated experience in recognizing and identifying rare books, researching and evaluating their subjective significance, estimating the relative rarity and worth, and appraising a dynamic and imprecisely quantified value.

There are no reliable price guides to Mormon books. A college student attempted one in Logan, Utah several years ago, but he had never produced his own catalog, and relied on the whimsically erratic catalog prices used by unfamiliar generalist book dealers, with no indication whether a sale was completed. The most accurate resource is my own database of twelve thousand price precedents, which I use for insight in free appraisals. But there is no secret, magical, or biblical price of a rare book; there is no value that is known, static, or precise. Even same editions vary in value subjectively based on factors such as condition and completeness, state or variation, binding or wrappers, and provenance and association.

There is also no exactness to determining any "fair market value" of something that changes hands infrequently. The supply curve shifts each time another unknown copy of a scarce book surfaces. The demand curve shifts depending on the economy and varying tastes and information. The only way to ascertain an accurate value is to consult with a serious collector--one who spends every day thinking about the highly specialized study of rare Mormon books.

Ultimately, all books sell at a market price where supply equals demand. That is, if the market supply of a book is one known copy, then there will be equilibrium at the point at which the price is high enough so that only one buyer desires the book at that price. Since the expert makes educated decisions, he or she will purchase with greater confidence than the novice, and therefore be willing to pay more for the best books. Besides having more information, the expert relies on the ability to manipulate a shift in the demand curve and change of the slope of elasticity by marketing to alter individual collector tastes and improve information prior to a resale. That is, an expert can change market price by packaging a rare book in an appealing way and adding historical information through research that makes the book recognizably more significant to each collector. Thus, a serious collector will invariably pay higher prices than a novice, because he or she knows the potential price attainable through a skillful resale.

The most undesirable alternative is to send the books to an auction. The auction determines the segregated market price only among those present--a fraction of the entire field of collectors. The other disadvantages of auctions include the hefty costs: (1) Fifteen percent buyer's premium, (2) eight and one quarter percent sales tax (both of which the buyer will back out of his highest willing bid), and (3) fifteen percent consignor commission rate; such that a book selling for $5,000 will net the seller $3,414. Riskily, there may not be an interested buyer present at the auction to bid, as happened earlier this year when a first edition Book of Mormon was sent to auction--and the book might either sell for a small percentage of its retail value, or the seller be forced to pay a commission on a reserve price without even selling the book. Finally, auctioneers are generalists who do not have experience in Mormon books, and they would not be expected to fetch as high a price for a book as a specialist--who usually buys the book at the auction for less than he would have paid directly. Therefore, auctions and other attempts to circumvent professionals invariably cause the seller to lose money.

Book owners who contact me will receive--free of charge--a full evaluation of their books, an explanation for why the books are significant relative to their literary content or printing history, a summary of the market precedents for the sale of similar books, and confidence that my prices are the highest in the market. They may call either local or long distance, request an intrastate or interstate visit from me, or come to historic Independence and stay in my guest suite comfortably designed for friends and book lovers. All inquiries and transactions are kept strictly confidential, for whatever income and inheritance considerations are had by my clients, unless they give express permission. After obtaining free knowledge from me, they still have the prerogative to donate their books to a not-for-profit organization, rather than sell the books and donate the money that those organizations crave; or they may bequeath them to their indifferent children for whom they have no less-expensive gifts equally attached by sentimentality (assuredly not sell them through my less proficient and uncompetitive colleagues). But whatever alternative is selected, I will be gratified that they will make an informed decision. As the highest token of flattery, even the RLDS assistant archivist (Barbara Bernauer) did exactly that, in the epicenter of intolerance and false accusations. When she needed to sell her father's books for his health care, she utilized the best outside information available, concluded that my prices were the highest in the country, and publicly sold me the books.

Thus, there are many benefits to allowing private collectors to participate in the free market. They facilitate the allocation of scarce resources through the attraction, preservation, and placement of rare books; they act as intermediaries in the exchange of rare books and the redistribution of wealth; and they allow competition to determine the real value of historical materials. Further, there are no economic or theological reasons against selling books, either as an individual or as a professional. In this essay, I have used anecdotes to illustrate how I operate in the book market. That operational style demonstrates that I am an ethical, generous, and skillful leader in the field of Mormon Americana.

1. The Autobiography of Parley Parker Pratt, ed. Parley Pratt Jr. (New York: Russell Brothers, 1874), p. 87. For other precedents for selling the Book of Mormon at a profit, see Messenger and Advocate, May 1835; Eber Howe, Mormonism Unvailed [sic] . . . (Painesville, Ohio: 1834), p. 252; Naked Truths About Mormonism, April 1888; and Pomeroy Tucker, Origin, Rise, and Progress of Mormonism (New York: D. Appleton & Co., 1867), p. 55. See also Times and Seasons, 1 November 1840, for an advertisement to sell the Book of Mormon (Nauvoo, Illinois edition) with a wholesale price of $1.00, and a retail price of $1.25.

2. Joseph Smith Jr., trans., "First Book of Nephi," The Book of Mormon (Nauvoo, Ill.: Printed by Robinson and Smith, 1842), p. 17 (LDS 1 Nephi 5:19 or RLDS 1 Nephi 1:170).

3. Joseph Smith Jr., trans., "Book of Alma," The Book of Mormon (Nauvoo, Ill.: Printed by Robinson and Smith, 1842), p. 318 (LDS Alma 37:5 or RLDS Alma 17:34), emphasis added.

4. Refer to Ron Romig, tape recorded conversation, 1650-1724, 18 May 1995. Refer also to tape recorded conversations with Sara Hallier Nyman (Kansas City Public Library), and Francis Acland (Graceland College), 20 May 1995.

5. Ibid.

6. Patricia Struble, Librarian, Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints to John Hajicek, 2 March 1992.

7. Refer to Ron Romig, tape recorded conversation, 1650-1724, 18 May 1995.

8. For example, Barbara Young, the proprietor of the charming Old Book Shop on the Independence Square, has a general stock of books from all disciplines. As a colleague I am entitled to give her my endorsement as a buyer and seller of quality books outside of the area of Mormon Americana (I also esteem the smaller shops on the Square). Romig is obligated to provide her name, and mine.

9. Rare Book and Manuscript Section, Ethical Standards Review Committee, Standards for Ethical Conduct for Rare Book, Manuscript, and Special Collections Librarians . . . (Chicago: Association of College & Research Libraries, 1992), p. 215.

10. Refer to Ron Romig, tape recorded conversation, 1650-1724, 18 May 1995.

11. Saints Herald, December 1994.

12. See Oliver Wendell Holmes, "The Chambered Nautilus," The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table (Boston: Phillips, Sampson and Company, 1857), pp.110-11.

13. "The State Historical Society of Iowa gratefully acknowledges your contribution noted within. Thank you for your support," 17 August 1988; and The University of Michigan, "The Regents of the University acknowledge with thanks the receipt of your recent gift of $100.00. Your generosity and commitment to the University and its programs are deeply appreciated," 23 May 1995. See also list of "Historical Societies, Associations, or Libraries to Which John Hajicek Is a Member or Contributes," appended to Journal of John Hajicek.

14. Ron Romig to John Hajicek, 9 March 1993.

15. Ron Romig to John Hajicek, 4 December 1992.

16. Saints Herald, September 1994.

17. The paintings and artifacts were showcased in the Saints Herald, September 1994 and January 1995.

18. Ron Romig to John Hajicek, 4 December 1992.

19. Rare Book and Manuscript Section, Ethical Standards Review Committee, Standards for Ethical Conduct for Rare Book, Manuscript, and Special Collections Librarians . . . (Chicago: Association of College & Research Libraries, 1992), p. 215.

20. Ron Romig to John Hajicek, 4 December 1992.

21. Saints Herald, 1 November 1881.

22. Richard Howard, Restoration Scriptures: A Study of Their Textual Development (Independence, Mo.: Herald Publishing House, 1995), p. 304.

Book Copyright � 1995 John Hajicek.  All rights reserved.